As Bad As Can Be (14 page)

His voice was soothing, his hands gentle. “Shhhh, it's all right,” he said softly, rocking her until she relaxed enough to lie back down next to him, shivering. “Bad dream?”

As always, it left her feeling fragile, shaky. It was the reason she never wanted to sleep with another. “Just a nightmare I have sometimes,” she said, but her voice still held too much anxiety to achieve the offhand tone she strived for. She lay back down in the circle of his arms. Sleep was impossible to consider. Alone, she needed to be alone. She had to ask him to leave.

The thing that would be unforgivable.

“Tell me about it,” Shay said softly, kissing her hair. Talk to him, Dev had said. Trust him. Disorientation from the dream had her leaning her head on the pillow as he spooned against her.

The silence stretched out. The warmth of his body, the comfort of his arms around her softened the edges of the leftover fear, made her feel secure. The dimness of the room gathered around her like a warm cloak. “Talk to me,” he whispered.

The seconds ticked by and Shay resisted the urge to ask her again. She'd either open up to him or she wouldn't. Trust wasn't something you could order up on a schedule, he understood that now. Just as he knew that the words wouldn't be something he could listen
to lightly. They would cost them both.
Talk to me,
he thought silently.

And finally, her voice soft as angels' wings in the night, she did.

“I guess you know from Dev that my mother walked out on us. I was about six. We came home from school and she was just gone. Dev found the note on the kitchen table…I never asked what it said. The weird thing was that my dad acted like nothing had happened. He fed us macaroni and cheese and put us to bed.” She sighed and Shay pulled her in tighter against him, pulling the covers up over their spooned bodies.

“I woke up and it was dark and I was really thirsty. Mostly I was scared of the big empty. I kept thinking that it was my fault she'd gone away. She'd yelled at me the day before for leaving my room a mess. Deep down, I just knew that if I'd been a better little girl, she wouldn't have left.”

“No,” he said softly.

“I know, I know, standard psychology,” she hastened to say, “but I was six. What did I know?

“Anyway, I finally crawled out of bed and went down the hall to my parents' room. That's what I'd do when I couldn't sleep. Not to crawl in bed with them, but so my mom would get me a glass of water or something. They always left the door open. Except my daddy's door was closed.”

A car drove by in the street outside, sending a wash of light strobing through the darkness of the room.

“I stayed outside his room for a long time. I made noises I thought would wake him up so he'd find me in the hall. Things would be better if he'd open the door and come out, I just knew it. He'd tell me it
wasn't my fault, that it would be okay.” She paused for a long time. Shay pressed a kiss to her temple and waited. Finally she began again.

“He never opened the door, though, and I was so thirsty. I finally got up my nerve to go downstairs. I was scared of the shadows and I was tiptoeing. And then I heard a funny noise, like a dry kind of hacking. I didn't know what it was, and then I got close enough to see the shape on the couch. It was my daddy. And he was crying.”

She began to tremble. “Nothing in my life had ever scared me like that sound. It was like my whole world went spinning off its axis. Daddies weren't supposed to cry, you know? Daddies were supposed to be solid like the earth. Mommies were supposed to take care of you and daddies were supposed to push you on the swings and whirl you around in the sun and introduce you as my little girl. They weren't supposed to sit in the dark crying.”

Her breath had become unsteady. His heart ached for her, for that little girl. “It seemed like I sat on the stairs there forever. I didn't know what to do. And then Dev was there, taking my hand. He told me it was going to be all right and took me back up to bed.

“My father was never the same after that day. It was like all the strength had left him with my mother. He started drinking. Dev probably told you, he died in a crane accident down at the docks, but if it hadn't been that, it would have been liver damage. He wasn't a mean drunk, he'd just…go away somewhere in his mind.” Her voice trailed off and he held her close until she spoke again.

“So now I dream about being in dark alleys with my father running off up ahead and scary things chas
ing me behind. Textbook Freud.” She gave a laugh that ended in a choke. “The stupid thing is that it still scares me silly every time. You know, it wasn't just my mom that left that day. My dad left, too, it's just his body hung around a little longer.” To her horror, her voice broke and suddenly she was sobbing, curling herself into a ball of misery while Shay murmured soothing sounds in her ear. Gently he turned her in his arms and she was pressed against him, holding on to him as the one solid thing in the tempest.

Time drifted by, measured only by the regular stroke of his hand down her back and the soft kisses he pressed onto her eyes. Time drifted by as she wept for all she had lost, for that little girl on the stairs.

Finally her grief abated and she lay against him, exhausted. Sleep beckoned.

“I never cried over it,” she murmured drowsily, brushing her fingers along his cheek. “I hurt and I was afraid, but I never cried.”

Shay tightened his arms around her. “Sometimes you need to let it out. Maybe now you can get past it.”

“Maybe,” she yawned.

“For now, my love, just sleep,” he whispered, and followed her down.

 

M
ALLORY WOKE TO FIND THE
warm press of Shay's body against her. For a few seconds, she didn't wonder at the feel of his arms around her, just nestled into the safety and comfort.

Then memory flooded back and her eyes snapped open in horror. What had she done, Mallory thought with an internal groan. When she'd told him she'd try,
she hadn't intended to tell him everything. Not at first. Not before she knew she could trust him.

Keep yourself for yourself, that was what she knew, what she'd always known. Give too much and you hand over all the power. Keep some back.

Instead she'd shown him her private demons. It had been so easy. He'd been there with warm arms and soft murmurs. He'd made her feel safe. He'd offered her his strength and support and in the darkest hours, she'd taken it. She'd given him everything—her past, her tears, her trust. But it was worse than that.

She'd given him her heart.

T
HE DOOR TO
B
AD
R
EPUTATION
stood propped open with a wedge as the loaders from Mallory's distributor brought in her weekly supply of liquor. Bourbon, tequila, vodka and rum, it passed through the door case by case.

Mallory stood next to the truck, trying to concentrate on checking off the order, and focusing on anything but. Love. The knowledge jittered through her, mixing with anxiety. How had she let herself fall in love and what was she supposed to do now? Unable to face Shay that morning, she'd slipped out while he was still sleeping and walked for hours in the early dawn until she knew he was due at O'Connor's and it was safe to come back.

She'd known that he'd become important to her, but she'd thought it was something under her control. She'd thought opening up would let their relationship continue. She hadn't imagined it would result in her giving him everything.

What now, that was the $64,000 question. Breaking things off would be the safest thing. It wouldn't come without a price, though, she knew that much already. Going forward was fraught with risk. Telling him how she felt was out of the question. But could she trust him enough to continue seeing him, knowing that at some point he might guess?

“What about the kegs?” Mallory blinked to find a burly man in a sweatshirt standing in front of her, resting a case of gin on his hips.

“The cold room's in the cellar. Bring the truck into the alley. We've got an elevator in the back to take them down to cellar level.”

She glanced up at the pedestrian approaching her and blinked. “Hi, Fiona. What brings you around here?” she asked, taking a final look at the list on her clipboard as the loaders closed up the truck and prepared to drive around to the back.

Fiona hesitated. “Could I talk with you for a minute?”

“Sure.” She took a closer look, noting the pale face and dark eyes. “Come on in.”

Inside Bad Reputation, it could have as easily been ten or eleven at night as ten in the morning. Without windows, time was irrelevant. Mallory headed behind the bar and pulled out a couple of glasses. “You want something to drink?”

“A soft drink, if you have it,” Fiona said, sliding onto a bar stool.

Mallory set out Fiona's drink and poured herself a club soda. She added a quick dash of lime juice and took a sip. “So what's on your mind?” she asked, setting it on the counter.

“I want a job,” Fiona blurted.

Mallory studied the girl's face, noticing the lines of strain. “What's wrong with O'Connor's? You've been there since you came over from Ireland, haven't you?”

Fiona tapped her fingers restlessly. “Three years,” she said flatly.

“So?”

“Three years of being treated like a bit of wall
paper.” The torrent of words was sudden, brusque. “I'm tired of being told who I am. ‘Fee, you're a good girl,' ‘That's our lass, Fee.' I want to be treated like an adult, not like a storybook character.”

Mallory gave her a shrewd look. “This wouldn't, by any chance, have to do with Colin, would it?”

“So what if it does? ‘She's my sister,' ‘She's a good lass,' ‘That's our little Fee.' Well, he won't take his chance, will he? And then he turns rude when someone else makes me feel like I'm pretty.”

“Maybe he doesn't know his own mind.”

“Well he should,” she said hotly. “And then what does he do but have a fit because a man I've met comes to ask me for a date. It's the most romantic thing that's happened to me, and all Col can say is mean things.”

“Fiona, he's jealous, can't you see that?”

“Well he's got no right to it, does he?” she flared. “He's had all the chances in the world and he treats me like I'm invisible. Well, if I'm invisible, then I'll just take myself away somewhere I'm appreciated.”

“Are you sure you're really ready for what it's like to work here?” Mallory asked gently. “I mean, there's no hiding. You're going to have guys flirting with you, making passes, trying to get away with the odd pinch or pat if they think the bouncer's not watching. It might look like fun, but you can feel pretty damned naked when you're up on that bar and they're all looking at you like you're on a plate.”

“I think it'll be lovely, altogether. It'll make me feel like a woman for a change.”

Mallory gave her a sober look. “No man alive can make you feel like a woman. That's something you have to find in yourself.”

“I know,” Fiona said. “It's just that the man makes me half mad.”

Mallory shook her head in sympathy. “It's a bad sign, Fiona. It's the ones you care about that make you crazy. The ones that don't matter don't bother you at all.”

“Well it's high time for me to be getting over Mr. Colin O'Connor and onto other men.”

“Don't expect it to happen here,” Mallory said mildly. “My one cardinal rule is no dating customers.”

A spark of mischief glimmered in Fiona's gray eyes. “I guess I'll have to work quick, then, and catch them before they buy a drink.”

Mallory took another sip of her club soda. “I still don't know about this, though,” she said, her voice troubled. “Normally I'd say more power to you but Shay will have my head if I steal you away.”

“You're not stealing me,” Fiona countered. “I'm an adult and I know my own mind.”

Mallory gave her a long look. “I want you to think about it for a day or two. Be really sure you want to make the change. If you're still certain, you can try it out once while you're still working for Shay, make sure you like it.”

“I'm off Friday night,” Fiona said.

“Okay, I'll see you here Friday at eight. Don't be late.”

“All right.” Fiona turned to go, then stopped partway to the door. “How shall I dress?”

Mallory gave her a wicked grin. “Like a bad girl, of course.”

 

T
HE WHOLE THING GAVE HER
an uneasy feeling, Mallory thought as she did bar prep later that afternoon.
She could tell herself all she wanted that Fiona was an adult and entitled to her choices. Reality was, she still felt like she was stealing one of Shay's staff, a person who was obviously the next best thing to a family member. Worse, she was luring her into a den of iniquity. Not that she'd done any luring—quite the opposite. But she couldn't shake the idea that Shay would not be thrilled. And with things up in the air between them, she wasn't at all sure that adding one more thing to the mix was a wise idea.

The door opened and Mallory realized with a start that she'd forgotten to lock it after the delivery. She sighed and prepared to break the news that no, the bar was not open for another eight hours.

“Can't a person get a drink around here?” someone called out. Mallory blinked in shock and gave a cry as Becka Landon walked in.

“Oh my God, what are you doing here?” she cried, hustling across the room to give Becka a hug.

“And it's good to see you, too,” Becka said dryly. She wore shorts and a T-shirt, both damp.

“Is it raining out?” Mallory asked.

Becka shook her head. “I've been running.”

“You didn't jog here from Massachusetts, did you? I knew you were freaky about working out, but that's over the top even for you. Have a seat,” she said, waving Becka to a stool and walking behind the bar to fill a glass with water. “There you are. On the house.”

“Oh, the generosity of friends,” Becka sighed, and gulped down half of it.

“So it's great to see you, but I'm still a little flummoxed. Are you staying here? Is Mace along?”

“Oh, he's here.” Becka gave her a bright-eyed look and then relented. “We sailed down from Boston. We're on our honeymoon.”

“What?”
Mallory goggled.

Becka gave a laugh. “Honeymoon. Mace and I eloped a couple of days ago and we're taking his sailboat down to Florida and the Bahamas for our honeymoon.”

Mallory looked at her like she was out of her mind. “You are aware that it's hurricane season, right?”

“Oh, that,” Becka said flapping a hand. “It's the tail end and there are lots of good ports between here and Florida. We figure we'll take our time and stay at Mace's place for as long as we need to be sure the danger's past.”

Mallory shook her head, trying to take it all in. “So back up to the eloped part. You're married?”

A smile spread over Becka's face like a sunrise as she held out a hand with a plain gold band. “The deed is done, baby.”

“Congratulations.” Mallory hopped up on the bar and slid to the other side to give Becka a hug. “That's great.” She studied her. “You look happy.”

“I am happy,” Becka grinned. “Who'd have guessed?”

“Well, some of us sort of thought that if you stopped and thought about it for a minute you might just decide he was the one.”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah. You and Stan, the match-makers.”

“I'd say we did a pretty damned good job, judging by the way you look,” Mallory decided with a nod. She propped an elbow on the bar. “So why did you
guys skip the whole wedding thing? Not that I blame you, but you both have families.”

Becka sighed. “My mother is the original control freak. I saw what she did with my sisters' weddings. She would have made our lives miserable. It just made more sense to do it this way. I told everyone we were taking a couple of months off. When we come back, we'll just break the news and have a party for everyone. Of course, I may be disowned at that point,” she added reflectively, “but I'm sure she'll get over it. Mace has a way of charming her.”

“Mace has a way of charming everyone,” Mallory told her. “So you sailed here? I didn't know you knew how.”

“I didn't,” Becka grinned. “Mace taught me. He had a crew bring his boat up last month and we're taking it back down.”

“Where is he now?”

“Back at the boat doing all the port stuff. I just had to get off and go for a run. There's not a lot of room to move on a boat and I could feel myself turning into a puddle of mush.”

“Oh, yeah, I can see that happening,” Mallory said dryly, her gaze flicking over the solid muscle of Becka's arms. “Face it, Landon, you're a workout freak.”

“Someone's got to be,” Becka said with dignity.

Mallory snorted. “Nothing's worth working that hard over. I figure I'll just let nature take its course.”

Becka looked suspiciously at Mallory's sleek body. “I still think you exercise on the sly.”

“In all my infinite spare time.”

“Speaking of which, how's the business?” Becka
asked, turning to look around the space. “Things going okay?”

“We're covering expenses and starting to pay back the start-up costs, so yeah, things are going okay.”

Becka glanced at her sports watch. “So are you booked up here? Why don't we go grab lunch somewhere outside and you can tell me all about it.” She cleared her throat.

Mallory narrowed her eyes. “This wouldn't just be a ploy to get a free meal, would it?”